


Dares and Demons

by ClockWorkQueso



Series: Here, There Be Monsters [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Death, Finn was never recruited, M/M, Monster Hunting AU, Rewrite, and blood, him and puck are kind of assholes, old fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3377573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockWorkQueso/pseuds/ClockWorkQueso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt is constantly bullied by jocks Puck and Finn. Finally some good comes out of their cruel jokes when he meets Blaine Anderson, the mysterious boy who lives in the Hillhouse Mansion. But is he all he appears to be? Kurt's life is about to be turned upside down as he unwittingly becomes involved in a world that was never meant to see the light. </p>
<p>Blaine is lonely, and rightly so. But when an encounter with a shocking stranger jars him out of his misery, will it be for the better, or for the worse? And who is he, exactly?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dare

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of my semi-popular fanfic on ff.net, if you want to read the original, my UN is the same. Blaine is not human, Kurt is very much so, and the Warblers aren't exactly sure what they are.

They found me in the hallway, which, looking back, was a pretty average place for me to be, actually. I had been in the bathroom for a while due to an impromptu slushie attack, which again wasn't that uncommon. But the thing that made it unusual was that they waited for me. Neanderthals naturally have short attention spans, so waiting it out or hiding for a bit worked in a pinch, even in the special case of Noah Puckerman and Finn Hudson. Jocks though they were, through and through, they made it their personal agenda to make my life literal hell.

The deal was, I did whatever sick dare they wanted to see me perform, and the football team would lay off me for a bit. The football team didn't hold to this very well, of course, but it got Finn and Noah to limit their abuse to slurs and rude gestures. Those I could handle, and I did, on a near daily basis. Things never got too physical because that would give me proof. Anyway, the dares ranged from rude (stuffing the resident paraplegic into a port-a-potty) to really toeing the line (shoving tater tots into Sue Sylvester's tailpipe- the one on her car, that is). So you could imagine my apprehension when I saw the pair of football gorillas leaning against the lockers across from the bathroom.

The faces of the two split into sarcastic sneers that looked more like confused grimaces as they caught sight of my slightly disheveled appearance.

"Hey, Lady. Got slushied recently?" the mohawked teen laughed, coming over to me and pretending to brush off my shoulder. I bristled under his touch and winced as he gripped it tightly.

"Too bad. But we have a good one for you today. Have you heard of the Hillhouse Mansion?"

To clarify, I did know what the Hillhouse Mansion was. There wasn't a kid in Lima limits that didn't know. Hundreds of years ago, some sort of scientist or something went into there to live for a while. Before that, it had been abandoned, but old records say that people used to hear boards creaking and shadows and stuff like that. No one believed in any of the rumors- until the man that went to live there didn't come out alive. After a few days without a word from him, the police were sent in to find that he had been ripped to shreds. They said it was just some crazy killer taking advantage of an old superstition, but the culprit was never caught. Westerville students often whisper to the Lima kids that they can still see shadows in the windows, and Lima kids report strange sounds, and even someone leaving or entering the house. And every once in a while, someone, somewhere, even if its in the next state over, will mysteriously go missing...

During a short-ish trek to the house, which lays in between the two towns, the two bullies elaborated on the dare. Armed with nothing but a pen and my notebook, I was to stay the night and record anything suspicious I heard or saw. If I made it out alive, that is. I suppressed a scoff. All that this meant was Finn and Noah were curious about the rumors, but didn't have the balls to find out if any of it was true for themselves. As we came upon the house, the dark outline of it looming in my vision, Finn held out his hand expectantly.

He was unusually quiet, even for his level of brain activity. Shrugging mentally, I shot a quick text to my dad claiming that I was studying with Quinn, Finn's current girlfriend. As long as they were friends of Finn or Noah, they would explain away my absence for them. After shutting it off, I handed it to the quarterback. He pocketed it and gestured to the hulking building in front of us.

"Kay, Hummel, you know the rules. Good luck." he stated as Noah hit him in some manly display of friendship that I would most likely never understand.

"Yeah, good luck, Princess." Noah added as they turned and walked in the direction of the setting sun, chortling to themselves. I released a breath in anger like I was blowing fire at them before setting to the task at hand. All I had to do was make it through one night in a creepy, old, totally not haunted house. It wasn't as if I actually believed in that stuff anyway. I hesitantly stepped up to the front gate, open enough to allow a stray person inside, no more, no less. It protested a bit as I nudged past it. At the sound, the two boys whipped their heads around.

"W-woah, you aren't actually gonna do it, are you? I heard that, like, someone died in there once!" Finn called back to me, nearly facing me. Noah jerked him back to a frontwards face.

"Who the hell cares, dude? Maybe the Princess is finally learning what it means to be a real guy instead of a prissy little pussy!" he said, venom seeped into his speech, and seemed to convince his friend, who began walking back home again. Chagrin filled me, the heat of it propelling me over the dead grass of the unkempt front lawn. God, those two…! They were due for some seriously bad karma, maybe one of them would get kicked off the team for doing drugs, or maybe they'd sprain something so they couldn't play. Distracted by thoughts of their possible misfortunes, I didn't notice what I was doing until the fading light of day was replaced with a cold, foreboding darkness. I suppressed a shiver as I took in the grayscale entryway. Just a house, just a house, just a house… I kept up that mantra as I made my way through the ridiculously large foyer, barren of all furniture and coated in a thick layer of dust.

I squinted my eyes as I did I quick 360, nearly shrieking at the sight of a dark, gaping maw across the room. As I nearly had both a panic attack and asthma attack from all the dust I just had inhaled, I inspected the creature closer. My eyes finally adjusted, they revealed that I was closer to the the leftmost wall, and there was a larger than life fireplace on the opposite. Hand over my pounding heart, I continued turning until I was faced with a set of stairs that looked so dilapidated they would disintegrate under human feet. Dread overcoming me, I looked to in all directions for an alternative, but it seemed that the entirety of the first floor consisted of this one room.

Letting out a little sound of frustration, I put my foot softly on the first step. There was a slight groan, along with what sounded like a few heavy footfalls. Wait, what!? Panic steering my body, I rushed up the rest of the stairs in a rush. Too fast, apparently, because on the last, my foot caught and the momentum sent me crashing into the floor. My hands scraped on the wooden floor agonizingly as they shot out to catch me, stopping my face from slamming onto the ground. The loud thud seemed to resonate inside the house, disrupting the deafening silence.

I took a few deep breaths to calm myself, straining my ears to catch a few more, albeit lighter, footfalls. Dear sweet Gaga, someone was here with me. Or... maybe it was a something. I felt sick to my stomach as I was struck with a sudden vision of me, torn and bloody, some malevolent force laughing over my prone figure. Shaking off the pain in my hands, I got to my feet and quickly surveyed the hallway. It was filled with a multitude of doors, all worn down with time, except for one near the right end of it. I darted towards it, fearing that if I opened a creaky door or walked on flimsy floorboards, I would be caught.

I yanked open the door and rushed inside, breathing heavily, and closing it as gently as possible. Maybe this wouldn't be as easy as I thought. I put a hand over my mouth to stifle the sound of my panicked breathing. I heard the eerie creaking of stairs, then silence. A few tense second passed, seeming like hours, before I managed to take my hand from the old fashioned knob. The room was dark, as the only window in the room was covered it what I assumed was wooden boards. I made my way over to it and peeped out through the boards over it. No one was out, especially near this house.

I managed to squeeze my fingers in between the boards, but I met glass instead of the air I expected. How was there glass in this how ever old it was window? I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the telltale footsteps coming back upstairs. Eyes darting around frantically, I spun around and saw a faint outline of a bed. Choking down the fear of spiders and dust and whatever else could be lurking under that old thing, I dived down and rolled. I held my breath, anticipating a cloud of dust to envelop me and make me hock a lung, but the floor was barren save for a few dust bunnies that I could feel on my scraped hands.

My body froze as the door to the room swung open. I didn't even breathe as whatever it was made its way to the window, then back to the bed, creepily mirroring my earlier movements. It stood there for a little while, and I could just make out its feet at the footmof the bed. Just when I began to get lightheaded, it dropped... my notebook and pencil.

"I know you're under there. You can come out, and we can just forget this ever happened. But you need to leave." A voice as smooth as honey that definitely did not sound like a ghost came unexpectedly from the direction of the... person, I guess. I had to squint my eyes as a light clicked on . I hesitantly crawled forward, ready to bolt.

"There, now you should be able to see. Don't you know sneaking into abandoned houses is dangerous?" His back was to me, I noted as I got to my feet, notebook back in hand. I could hear the joking tone in his voice, but there was an underlying tone of harsh seriousness that I couldn't miss. He turned, and my heart stopped.

His hair was a curly mess on top of his head, dark as coal and wild as all hell. Eyes as captivating as his voice, they were the color of amber and contained the look of a much older person. The guy looked around my age, if not younger, and he was a couple of inches shorter than me too. A simple jeans and black t-shirt covered his tanned skin, and they way they were worn and faded belayed their familiarity to the boy. When he turned, he wore a slight smirk, but his mouth popped open in slight surprise and wonder when he saw me. He met my eyes and the look faded instantly, replaced with the stone coldness of a perfect poker face.

"Who are you?" I blurted, clutching my notebook to my chest like a schoolgirl. Jesus. He laughed quietly, barely smiling. But it was something. Then again, why did I care about mysterious gorgeous guy that seemed to be living in a creepy abandoned mansion. What the shit. The guy shook his head a bit and made his way past me, to the window. What, was I unpleasant to look at to something? Had I screwed up my morning routine? I did a quick check on my wardrobe, a grey 3/4 sleeved sweater over a white button up, dark jeans, leather oxfords. Simple, but it was my emergency outfit in case of slushies. After an awkward pause, I tried a different approach.

"I'm Kurt Hummel, and I'm, uh, sorry for, you know, the whole breaking in thing. Do... you live here?" I asked timidly, taking a step. He only turned his head, but I could clearly feel the message- stop where you are. His face was a bit more open that it was before, but his countenance suggested that he was annoyed.

"Not that it's really any of your business, but yes. I do live here." His words were harsh, but his tone was light. He turned back to look out the window at the nearly dark sky. "And I'm Blaine. Nice to meet you. I'd suggest you get home before it gets too dark, though. These areas can get pretty bad at night." I was hesitant to tell him the reason I needed to stay, but maybe he would empathize with me a bit, or at least let me come back early in the morning to camp out for a bit before Finn and Noah came to get me. Since it was a Friday, I could wake up before my dad easily.

"Listen, um, not to be rude or imposing or anything, but I really really need to stay. I'm kind of here on a dare," I could see the way his shoulders hunched. He crossed his arms in obvious contempt, "but it's different, I swear!"

"Enlighten me then, give me one good reason I should let you stay." Blaine said, then seemed shocked at his own words. He shook his head and turned partway to face me. I looked at his face. It almost seemed as if he regretted turning, but I blinked and there was the mask again.

"Well... there are these guys, football players..." His indifference cracked a bit as he turned attentively and listened to me explain all about the twisted game that went on between my bullies and me. I managed to keep cool through most of it, but near the end my voice wavered. I didn't want to admit it, but I was afraid of those two and what they could do to me. I wanted to be stronger.

"You can be. You are. I can tell." I hadn't realized that I spoke aloud until I heard Blaine's soft reply. "You aren't weak. You're human." He shrugged one shoulder and glanced back over his shoulder at the window.

"Stay for the night. Show them just how strong you are, Kurt. Courage is an invaluable tool, and you can face them tomorrow knowing that you completed a task they set in front of you in hope that you would fail. Have courage in yourself." He trailed off, and my eyes brimmed with tears.

"That's probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." I muttered, wiping my eyes. I could see the sadness in his eyes at my confession, and he walked to me. Instead of hugging me or something silly like that, haha why would I want him to hug me, he continued to the door.

"And I don't mean to be rude either, I'm just not very good at this communication thing. My only requests are that you tell no one that I'm here and that you be gone by morning." I nodded to both and offered him a watery smile. I liked the way he talked. I like the way he looked. Hell, I think I liked him. I was left alone with my thoughts when he left, steps echoing through the house. I realized I hadn't properly moved in quite some time, and stretched a bit before I sat down on the edge of the bed. I flopped back on the downy comfortor, pondering that Blaine could very well possibly be a physco. Or a convict. As I scooted back to lay my head on the heap of pillows, I decided that I didn't care. For now, I trusted him, and he seemed nice enough.

Still, I had to stay in my guard around him... something inside of me warned that things weren't all exactly right with him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Blaine's POV_

I took a few deep breaths after I had exited the mansion, contemplating my visitor. Could this be fate? Or some sort of higher power at work? I scoffed as I hooked my thumbs in my pockets, weaving through the gate's opening. _As if any higher power would have any interest in me_ , I thought glumly, toeing a few pebbles off the cracked sidewalk. I don't know how long I stood on that sidewalk, watching as the sky turned from the glowing colors that stung my eyes to a dark, inky purple, just thinking. I took more deep breaths, inhaling the new, raw power of the darkness. For a second, my gaze drifted back to the house. I twitched and jerked my head in the opposite direction. I was right to leave, the boy would prove to be too much a temptation to me if we were in such close proximity again. I sighed, dispelling all thoughts of the mysterious Kurt with a final shake of my head, and started forward in a random direction.

He could be anyone, really. Though I found it hard to doubt the earnest honesty that he showed me. Regardless, it was no coincidence that we had met, and I had to keep my guard up around him. I sensed a power within him, not unlike… well, I could be wrong. I hoped I was wrong…

_Kurt's POV_

Jolting awake, I struggled to remember where I was. This wasn't my bedroom… then it hit me. I laid back on the bed- Blaine's bed- and rubbed my eyes blearily. I reached over to the nightstand for my things and realized I hadn't even written anything. I chewed on the end of my pen as I thought. Honesty was the best policy, after all, so I simply jotted down a few notes about the creepy noises I had heard. They would totally buy that. I exhaled softly, realizing that my gracious host hadn't returned. Not that I stayed up waiting for him or anything, I lied as I pushed myself off of the mattress.

Making sure everything was back in order, I nodded once before leaving with trepidation. I made it down the stairs without tripping, thank God, and managed to find my way to the door. I couldn't even tell if this huge room had any windows, and Blaine, as far as I knew, hadn't wired up electricity to any other room in the house besides his own. I stepped outside, feeling refreshed by the cool morning air after being cooped up in that stuffy house. Secretly, I hoped I would get a glimpse of Blaine returning, and at least get to say thanks or something, but all that awaited me outside the gate was Quinn's car.

Finn rolled down the driver's window and looked at me in shock. I raised my eyebrows and handed him the page with my scribbled notes. His eyes widened, and he looked over my shoulder to the house behind me.

"Wow… thanks for staying the whole time, dude, Puck and I had a bet. And uh, it's actually pretty impressive. What you did." he said the last part in a low voice, which instantly caught the attention of the blonde in the passenger seat.

"Stop chatting. We need to get Lady home before I have to lie to his dad too. And you and I need to have a talk about this Rachel girl" I'm not sure what was up, but something seemed off about Quinn this morning. Something in her voice, her posture, or… maybe just her? I shrugged it off and climbed in the backseat, careful not to touch anything that wasn't absolutely necessary. The blonde Cheerio would have a cow if I moved a single fiber out of place. The ride home was tense and awkward, and I was thankful that we traveled by car instead of on foot. As soon as Finn stopped the car, I was out of the vehicle, walking briskly to my front door.

Before I even made it, they were backing out of the driveway and gone. I pursed my lips as I grabbed the spare key and unlocked the door. The word courage instantly popped into my mind as I thought of the unjustness of it all. I would take it in stride. After all, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? I hummed the song happily, spirits lifted, and tiptoed off to the kitchen to surprise my dad with breakfast. I checked the time as I went, gauging the speed at which I'd have to cook to get it done. It was only 9, and Dad tended to sleep in quite a bit on the weekend. I could cook and then study for midterms. I broke out into full song, quietly. I felt like this would be a very productive day.

_Blaine's POV_

I groaned quietly as I came to, quickly taking note of my surroundings. I was cloaked in the shadows of trees, for which I was thankful for. Judging by my leaden limbs and grogginess, it was early in the day, perhaps about 8 or 9, and the direct sunlight would have a very adverse affect on my body. I ran a hand through my hair, freezing at the feeling of the matted curls. I brought my hand back down to inspect it, disgust running through me at the sight of dried blood. Glancing down at my clothes revealed that they too were in such a state. I thought I would be alright for another week or so, but I suppose Kurt had elevated my desire quite a bit prior to blacking out. I struggled to push myself to my feet, feeling as if I weighed thousands of pounds. Now I would have to find more clothes and clean myself before I would be able to get back home.

For a second, I allowed myself to ponder the possibility that Kurt would be there waiting for me- but no, I specifically asked him to leave for that very reason. It was wrong to want him around, dangerous, and unfair to him. I didn't want to drag him into all this. Besides, I thought as I shuddered, a few fractured memories from the night flitting through my mind. I can't allow myself to get close to anyone. Sure, it was lonely, especially after a few centuries, but I didn't deserve anything good anyway. You are a monster. I followed an inner pull back to Ohio. A creature that, as it should be, is unloved. I attempted to forget about Kurt and the way he reminded me of someone I had lost long ago. You are a demon. Finally, I succumbed to my emotions as tears began rolling down my face, as something deep inside of me, inescapable, pulsed.

_Kurt's POV_

The weekend passed with little incident, but I couldn't get Blaine off my mind. Dad had to call me back to reality more than once, and I wondered if I could go to the mansion without it seeming weird. Probably not, and honestly he didn't seem to enjoy company that much. In a dark mood, even for a Monday, I went to school. I endured the mediocre education of uninspired teachers, all the while wishing there were some class or organization that interested me. I had contemplated joining the Cheerios, as I was pretty damn flexible and very musically inclined. They were also pretty popular, which might save me a bit in the bullying department. But there were also no guys on the team, ever, no matter how flamboyant they were. Plus all the girls looked like mind controlled zombie-Barbies.

I sighed as the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, and gathered my stuff. As if summoned by my thoughts, Sue Sylvester herself came walking down the hallway as soon as I exited the classroom. Usually, you'd want to avoid her, and most students did. Goosebumps rose on my skin, and when she passed me. I felt an overwhelming urge to flinch back or defend myself. I tensed for a blow that never came, and in the blink of an eye she was around the corner. Grimacing, I slowly went in the opposite direction, to the back doors. I strode through the parking lot, a bit faster, and slipped into the comfort of my car. Without starting it, I gripped the steering wheel tightly. My mind was reeling, trying to fit together a puzzle it didn't have all the pieces to. It was a while before I was able to drive home, still puzzled and a little bit scared.

D&D

"Kurt, you seem out of it. If you need to talk-" I held up a hand to my father, gesturing for him to hold while I swallowed my food. Panicking inwardly, i struggled a bit for a good explanation.

"I just... have a lot going on at school, Dad. You know, the usual" I said offhandedly, squirming a bit in my seat. God, I hated lying to my dad, or even just telling half truths. But I honestly didn't know what to say. I was sneaking around a haunted house and met a boy while you thought I was at a friend's? Perfectly normal people were giving me bad vibes? Luckily, Burt Hummel was a man of few words who liked to avoid unnecessary talking, so he nodded and returned to his dinner.

No longer hungry, I excused myself and went up to my room after cleaning my plate. I was in the process of preparing my night routine when my phone trilled with a text. I almost opted to ignore it, but the contact name Finn Hudson gave me pause. I crinkled my brow, then reasoned he must have put it in just in case of... Something. I didn't keep a passcode on my phone anyhow, so it wasn't inconceivable. Shrugging, I swiped the screen with one finger and pulled the message up.

"hummel, come to park. puck and i need to talk to u. you kno, talk." I appreciated his attempt at subtlety, but I didn't understand what was going on. I should've been off the hook for at least the week, maybe two. Finn seemed pretty impressed. I huffed as I shot a quick "okay" back, calling down to my dad that a friend needed my help. Probably busy reviewing paperwork, he gave his approval through some noncommittal sound that might have been an okay, might have been an alright, but it sounded positive. Noting the cool autumn temperature, I threw on a dark jacket over my similarity colored ensemble, and headed out.

D&D

Finn swung his legs back and forth slowly, rocking him a bit on the swing. Phone buzzing in his pocket, he glaced at Kurt's text before turning is head to his best freind.

"Hummel's coming." was all he said, even though he had questions flitting through his mind. It was Puck's idea to have Kurt vandalize the park, even though he completed their last dare. Finn groaned inwardy. All of this thinking was giving him a headache. Turning his head back so that he could just see the sun setting, his head hurt a bit less. He kinda liked the colors the sun made when it set, all orange-y and fiery looking. Though he was pretty sure if he confided that to his freind, he would point out that there was also some pink in there, which made him gay. Finn would agree and then convince himself he didn't like sunsets anymore. Why? He wasn't sure. Maybe Puck wasn't a very good freind...?

Ugh, more thinking. But as he looked closer, he kinda liked the pink in the sky too. It looked nice. He didn't so much like the night sky, it was too dark for his liking, and he couldn't even see the stars that well. Finn thought about going out sometime to a big open field and just looking at them, uninhibited by city lights. Wait, though, that sounded kind of gay too. Was Finn gay? No, he definitely liked Quinn, and admittedly Rachel. So... What if just certain behaviors weren't even gay? What was so wrong with... being gay? In the middle of his existential crisis, he heard the sound of the chain that "guarded" the park rattle a bit. Was Kurt already here? It took about 30 minutes to walk, and he knew Kurt wouldn't waste his gas money on the trip. As the sun finally sank below the horizon, Finn felt a chill sweep through him. All of a sudden, he was struck by a horrible feeling that something bad was about to happen...


	3. Chapter 3

I shivered a bit and glanced behind my shoulder for the upteenth time. I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me, or following me, or... Ugh, no, I would drive myself crazy with those kinds of thoughts. Why was I so jumpy? I was suddenly struck with a fiery heat, and spun around so fast the lightposts that had just begun illuminating the streets blurred. Before I could blink, I was turned fully around with a fist thrusted out... at nothing. But I did feel a rush of air, almost as if something had just ran past me. Even more jittery before, (what was I, fucking _Sonic_?), I continued a bit faster to the park that was only a dozen or so minutes away, _courage_ , _courage_...

_Blaine's POV_

Oh, God, the sun had set and I had never been more hungry. It... it wasn't _normal_ , this feeling. Normally, I wandered as far away from people as I wished before he pushed for control, but tonight I felt his need pulsing through me, thrumming like a war drum. I don't know what was happening or why, but I felt a draw in me, much like the pull back home when I needed it. Fighting it for a while (God only knows what would happen if I gave in), I stayed in the Mansion, pacing up and down the hallway to try and distract myself. But I couldn't keep it up forever, and _he_ knew that. So it was inevitable that my vision went blurry, and the only things I could see, hear, feel, were muted and blurred. I felt the shift in my stance slightly, and I might have pulled my lips back in a smile. I floated, somewhere inbetween consciousness and sleep, for a while, as my other self tried to sort out what the newfound pull meant himself. Shocked with the sharp sensation of realization, we were off...

_Puck's POV_

Puck wanted to snap at Finn, swinging his legs, making the swing creak, staring off into the distance. He looked like he was thinking hard, which was unusual in its own right, but he was probably just stuck on something stupid like his girl problem. He should take some advice from the Puckzilla, _never get attached_. No attachments meant unlimited girls, bro. God, if Finn wasn't the quarterback Puck would give him a piece of his mind, but being popular had its stipulations. He heard the chain rattle when Finn did, both looking in the direction of the entrance.

Puck grinned and prepared for the fairy, hopping off the swing to grab a bag they stored behind the slide a few feet back, filled with spray paint and other destructive instruments of... destruction. Busying himself with his task, he payed no mind to Finn trying to get his attention, making weird noises and shit. Tuning him out, Puck sorted out the things, that is, until he heard this weirder loud-ish choking noise, and a voice that was definitely too low and manly to belong to Hummel. Groaning, he turned, hoping it wasn't one of those big, beefy, faster than fuck guys from Dalton (and even one of the smaller ones, they could pack a punch, what did they feed kids in Westerville?).

His breath caught in his throat when he caught sight of his partner in crime, hanging limply almost like a rag doll from the hands wrapped around his throat.

_Finn's POV_

Finn knew he was going to die the second he locked eyes with the boy... man... _thing_ coming towards him. He thought his life was going to flash before his eyes or something, isn't that what happens when you're about to die? But no, he didn't get any glimpses of his childhood, nothing from middle school, not even one memory from a football game. He remained completley aware and in the present, not even having time to move before he felt hands on his throat. Finn made a few pathetic choking noises, hoping to get the attention of Puck, to give him warning or say goodbye. He managed a small cry that was quickly cut off by the hands squeezing tighter. Through the spots in his vision, he managed to make out the two pitch black eyes staring back at him. The face was inhumanly twisted up into a snarl, revealing a slightly pointed set of teeth and incisors that looked like they could bite Finn in half.

The football player, hefty from his training and diet, felt the unusual sensation of being lifted up like he was as light as a feather. His senses were dulling, barely able to feel the hands ( _claws_ ) at his throat, just barely hearing Puck's shocked intake of breath over the low humming of words that were coming from the creature. Finn wished he could take a breath. Then maybe his head wouldn't be so fuzzy. As if reading his mind, the monster removed one hand, allowing a bit of air to pass through to the qauterback's lungs. Feeling hopeful, Finn valiantly fought to breathe, thinking Puck might help him any second. He just heard the sound of running footsteps on the blacktop, then grass as he made his escape. And that was the last thing Finn Hudson heard before the monster slashed his throat.

Um, that's not to say he died, because he didn't. The creature dropped him and darted in the direction of his "friend". Because, here, lying on the playground blacktop, in the cold, bleeding out, is where Finn Hudson saw his life flash before his eyes.

He saw his mother's face for the first time, as just a warm smile and warmer eyes. Flash forward a bit, his first words, his first solid food, his first steps. A world of firsts, reliving them one by one. For a moment, Finn was happy to be dying. Then, as he got older, he heard his parents first fight. His first understanding of what that meant. The first threat of leaving. The first time his father came home drunk. The time he came home and... for the first time his mother wasn't there for him... the first time his father hit him... in high school, the first time _he_ hit a kid outside of football. The first time his father ever showed any pride in his son. His first girlfriend, the head cheerleader, as it should be.

And Kurt, of course, Kurt, Finn saw him every day, was such a big part of his life, how could he not be? The first time he saw Kurt, walking down the hallways as most people ignored him or openly sneered at him, muttering slurs under their breath, holding his head high.

Finn felt something like envy then, wish he could stand being mocked, outcasted. He couldn't live without attention, without being accepted or praised, so eager to please. The first time he shoved Kurt, on accident, Puck had pushed him, into a locker, and the congratulations and cheers he got from the team were enough to make him do it again. And again, and again, and each time Kurt flashed through his head, Finn felt a sick feeling grow within himself, _for_ himself, as he watched the kid grow more and more weakened, more afraid. More like his mother before she left, too afraid to stay, except Kurt couldn't leave, he had broken his confidence his courage his bravery his fearlessness the absolute strength he had seen that first day oh god GOD he was just like his father _just like his father just like his-_

__

Kurt's POV

__

I had to stifle a gag as the sick stench of blood wafted to my nose. Oh my god, please tell me they didn't _kill_ someone, I always knew Puck was insane. Wary and already on edge, I was in no hurry to kill myself blundering onto a crime scene. Shuddering, I reached in my pocket for my phone... that was still on its charger at home, _fuck me_. Okay, okay, maybe I was just imagining things again. And there was only one way to find out, and besides, the cops needed witnesses, right? I crept forward, almost eerily silent. Nothing made a sound as I approached the playground in the near center of the park. I nearly started crying at the sight of a slumped over figure by the swings, and they finally leaked over when I saw the all too familiar letterman jacket.

"Finn!" His name left my lips in a cracked whisper, and I quickly knelt by him. I jolted when I saw that his eyes were open, and nearly shot back up when they met mine. His lips were moving, but barely any sound made it out. I leaned closer, nearly sobbing. He hadn't deserved this... maybe a solid punch in the face, but not... my eyes darted down to where the blood leaked from his throat, god, no one deserved _that_...!

"...m... s'rry... my, m... d.. dad..like... d..sor..." Finn managed, nearly choking on the blood, unable to get enough air. I took a deep breath, and nodded. I couldn't speak. I lowered my head, I didn't want to see it anymore, but I jumped at a feeling on my hand. Finn wanted... oh my god, he was probably terrified, he just wanted someone to hold his hand, and with horrible wave of despair rolling through me, I took it. Watched a grateful half smile twitch onto his face. Saw his chest shudder, then stop. And with a grief familiar but new at the same time, Kurt sobbed for Finn Hudson, not for the life he lived, but the life he _should_ have lived, and it was just like when he was eight and he couldn't understand death, and _God he just wanted to hold her hand for a few more minutes why did you take her away_


	4. Chapter 4

_Puck's POV_

Puck was filled with the kind of terror you only ever read about, see in movies. The heart-pounding, ragged breathing, _know you're about to fucking die_ fear. It had only been like, two minutes and Puck already felt a bit winded, he didn't know how long this asshole was gonna chase him, Jesus. He fought the urge to look back, becasue he held on to the childish hope that if he didn't look, it couldn't catch him. In the distance, they heard (and he knew if he could hear it whatever fucking creature of the night that was chasing him could too) sobbing, and Puck realized that Kurt was gonna get wrapped up in this too. He might never admit it, but he felt kinda guilty for some reason, maybe for leaving his freind to die? Or maybe... for what he was about to do. For shit's sake, if they were all gonna die regardless, then he might as well try a few different tactics other than running like a fucking coward.

Steeling his nerves, he braced himself for death as he stopped in his tracks. Puck turned, holding one hand out in the universal gesture for _stop_ , hoping to God that he at least got this thing's attention. He was not prepared. It was closer than he thought, only a few feet behind him, and he could tell by the way it was relaxed that it was toying with the football player. Underneath black, wild hair and ever darker eyes, completley filled in with the deep black of oil, _disgusting and slick_ , the feral smile of a hunter spread wide, baring sharp, animalistic teeth. Its clothes were spattered with the sick dark crimson of blood, _Finn's blood_ , and the whole thing together gave Puck chills. He swallowed a gag along with a scream and cleared his throat. He jumped when the thing cocked its head, a sharp, unnatural movment, nearly bent 90 degrees.

"Um, listen, please let me go, you, uh, I'm pretty sure you already," pause for a ragged breath, "k-killed my freind back there, and now he has company, and... you know, you bargained for two, so why not let me go?" Puck tried, resenting the shakiness in his voice. He was supposed to be confident and in control, dammit. The creature seemed to consider his words, and Puck fidgeted a bit, nervous. Then, the thing's smile spread wider, reminding him of that one cat from the one movie with the rabbit or something. He never liked that cat.

"But why have two when I can have three?" it purred, voice sending chills all over Puck's body, low and threatening. The worst part was the absolutely emotionless way that it talked about taking lives as if it were a daily occurrence. Which, Puck thought with a gulp, it probably was.

"Well, uh, Finn, that's the, uh, dead guy, has a lot of meat on his bones?" What was supposed to be his saving reason came out as a question. The creature drew up an eyebrow and crossed its arms. Puck struggled to think of something else to say about Finn, or any redeeming quality of the princess. Wait...

"And the other guy, he's weaker, he cries a lot too, if you push him too far,"' Puck offered. "If you like making people suffer, he's the one you want, not me."

"And you know this from personal experience, yes?" Puck nodded at the words, pulling a shaky smile.

"Yeah, uh, Finn and I pick on him all the time, it's really fun."

"So you enjoy tormenting him, do you? And could I dare to assume that you would be more than pleased to watch him take your place?" Heart beat slowing a bit, fists clenching and unclenching, he was unbelievably relating to this _monster_ , and maybe that said something about his character, but he really wanted to live. So.

"Survival of the fittest, right? Kurt Hummel vs. Puckerman, it's just natural that I win." Puck gloated, not noticing the subtle way the creature's face shifted.

_Blaine's POV_

Oh, well, there it was. The reason he wanted them dead. Sometimes his subconscious could influence his flip personality, and vice versa. If he wasn't careful with his emotions, his rage could induce a weakned version of his nighttime persona. It might be useful in fight or flight situations, but most of the time it was a bother when you were simply trying to blend in with normal society. Not to mention that the murder of two highschool students would definitely not go unnoticed. Survival of the fittest, indeed.

_Kurt's POV_

I reluctantly pulled my hand from Finn's cool digits, not wanting to leave his body alone. But someone had done this, and it's not like I could take them down. Finn would be taken care of by the police. And, if I didn't get out of this park, so would I. Resolute, I stood and wiped the gravel and debris off my legs and prepared to wave down a jogger or something... when I heard a terrible scream. My blood ran cold as I realized that Puck must have been chased off by whoever murdered his freind, and now... didn't the killer always come back to the scene of the crime?

I was hit by a rush of adrenaline, but it felt a lot more intense that the rush I got from roller coasters or being onstage. I willed my body to run, but a bad feeling kept me rooted to the spot. It was then I heard something fast approaching, and I knew I had to do something. With force I never knew I had, like before when I sensed something watching me, I struck out fast with my foot. Except unlike last time, I caught something. Jolted, I staggered back and nearly fell on my ass, while the thing I hit fell back with a grunt. I barely had time to blink before it was on its feet again, unnaturally fast, and I avoided a blow with a dodge equally as speedily. I swung a hand and hit it on the back of the head, propelling it away from me and on its knees. Only then did I begin to wonder exactly what it was.

It was dark, and the playground wasn't lit up at night because the people who built it probably didn't expect children to play at night. I struggled to make sense of the vaugley human (?) looking thing, what looked like matted, fluffy fur or something on top of its head, dressed in simple clothes as it breathed heavily on hands and knees. It twitched a bit and I tensed myself for another attack, but it jerked its head around, remaining on the blacktop. My eyes locked on the pair of dark orbs straing at me, thick eyebrows set low over them. I unconsciously stepped back as I took in its... his... appearance. His mouth opened, and I caught the edges of razor sharp fangs. Panic swelled in my chest, my breath became tight, I couldn't focus, I didn't understand. I slowly shook my head, and Blaine looked as if he was about to rise, I wanted to trust him, but I didn't want to take that chance. Before he could utter a word, I took off towards the entrance, Finn's lifeless hand and Blaine's entire body covered in blood, his eyes, his teeth, circling through my brain. It became harder and harder to breathe, and as I heard footsteps finally coming after me, my vision tunneled, I couldn't get any air, the world seemed to totter beneath my feet, and the world went black as I was falling, falling...

-D&D-

My dreams were usually nonexistent. Which is to say, black nothingness, just the darkness of unconsciousness. So it came as a bit of a surprise when I found myself walking through a brand new version of the Hillhouse mansion. The furniture in the main room looked as if they had just been moved in, and the rugs on the floor didn't even have a scuff mark. I also was in entirely white, which might have been a stament, but not one I would make in my clothing. I wandered around for a few minutes, taking in the true appearance of Blaine's house. I felt a niggling of discomfort at the thought of Blaine, but this was a dream, and reality had nothing to do with sleep. So I pushed it to the back of my mind and walked upstairs, not even a single creak under my feet.

I smiled happily, dreamily (haha) as I drifted towards Blaine's room, noting the open doors and the welcoming rooms within. I felt a pull to a room on the other end of the hall, and changed my direction to the only closed door. Hm. Well, this was my dream, so... I grinned and clicked my fingers, laughing a bit when it swung open. It was dark inside, and a sudden chill swept through the hallway. I paid both no mind and decided to explore the new room, trying to take advantage of my first ever dream. Even through the lack of light, I could make out a nice four poster bed, a covered mirror, and a huge window. Humming, I went to it and pulled back the curtains, flooding the room with nice, warm daylight. I got the feeling that this room hadn't seen it in a while, despite the newness of the house.

Turning, a figure on the edge of the bed immediately caught my eye. She was also in all white, and I wondered how I had missed her before. I approached the bed slowly, curiously, and she turned to greet me with a nod. Her face was serious, and her eyes were deep, sorrowful, yet joyful, and terribly familiar. She rose off the bed and walked away from me, to the mirror, her dark waves swaying slightly in an unexplainable breeze. I followed, unsure of what to do or what to make of her. When I was next to her, she pulled the cover off in a swift motion, revealing our reflections. I stared open mouthed at the mirror for a minute. In it, I could see the woman as she appeared next to me, dark hair, tan skin... bright hazel eyes. But myself, I was... not me. My hair was darker, almost black, but not quite, and naturally styled as opposed to coiffed. My normally porcelain skin was a bit darker, and both of these things made my eyes, cerulean as ever, stand out like beacons.

Concern and confusion bubbling inside of me, I looked to my enigmatic companion, but she wasn't there. I snapped my gaze back to the mirror and started at what I saw. The woman was still there, just her reflection now, but her white dress was soaked with red from the long, deep gash across her neck. And I was in similar shape, except I had marks and lacerations all over, and was that a bite mark? Gulping, I struggled to remember what I felt was a vital peice of information, the woman watching with sad eyes. _Bite marks, scratches, claws, hazel eyes, black eyes,_ what was it? The edges of my vision began to fade, but I fought against it, not wanting to wake just yet. A sharp gasp drew my eyes to the woman, who was staring behind me. I spun like a top, almost automatically, room growing darker. Blaine was there, but... so very _not Blaine_ , all claws and teeth, _claws and teeth_ , but he seemed so sad, and for a second I looked past the surface and saw just _Blaine_ and he was trapped in dark coils of writhing _evil_. I didn't know how to describe them, and my sight snapped back, and the moment was over, and I just caught the sillouette of another person behind not-Blaine as I fell back with an enormous rush of vertigo...!


End file.
